Draven does boring things with style!
by The First Gokun
Summary: As the title says. Slight headcanon.
1. Draven goes to a 'par-tay' with style!

Draven spotted the figure from across the room. That sexy tanned skin, white fur coiling around a perfect jawline, deep brown hair falling down exposed shoulders. Those piercing eyes locked on his, and their gazes seemed to melt together simultaneously until nothing in the background even registered; he threw it all away to focus on this once in a lifetime encounter. Preparing his opening line, he straightened his vest and meandered over intent on chatting up this godly beauty.

"Nice to meet you," said Draven.

"Likewise," Draven replied.

Darius knocked on the door. "Goddammit Draven, get out of the bathroom."

Draven looked away from his reflection in the mirror for the briefest moment to shout back. "Look, it takes me a while to put on this war paint."

"Get your makeup on already. I bet Leblanc gets ready faster than you."

"Dammit, it's WAR PAINT! And she can just hide her hair with that headdress, I gotta air these babies out for the rest of the world to see."

"..."

"Now wait, like, five more minutes bro."

"We are no longer fashionably late, Draven. Swain is expecting us at the Institute Hall in 5 minutes, and it takes 25 to get there."

"Draven decides what is and is not fashionably late," he said, plucking a tube of Sephora from his 'big box o' beautiful'. A true Draven always stocks up on warpaint and other accessories: extra earrings, spare gemstones for his axes, even a second headband. He finalized his cheek 'tattoos' and slipped the tube into his pocket, just in case the lines were to smudge outside.

"Draven is ready to DRAVEN!" he exclaimed, bursting out of the bathroom.

"You forgot your tiara," Darius said, turning and heading for the front door.

"Dammit, it's a HEADBAND. HEAD. BAND." Draven scurried back to grab his tia- I mean headband anyway. "You just don't get my sense of style."

"This is a military affair. I am in Noxian military garb. It makes logical sense. That... _thing_ that you're wearing does not."

"Draven does it all... with _style_. That's my catch phrase. Note the _style_ there. I'm not sure if you can hear it, but it's italicized and underlined, so it's important."

"How stylish is it to arrive 10 minutes late to an important military ceremony?"

"Very. Mostly because Draven does it. It's cool by association."

Darius just hung his head in his hands. This was going to be a long night. Best to get walking as soon as possible.

* * *

"Wanna hear my impression of Sona?"

Darius remained silent. This was not the area of Noxus he wanted to linger in. They should have taken the detour around this wretched DuCouteau territory. Then again, slowing down further would only anger Swain further, so he simply decided to keep his axe at the ready. Anyone who tried to mess with the two brothers would have to be crazy.

"Get it?" Draven prodded his brother in the cheek, one of his few unarmored regions.

"Get what?"

"I just did it. The impression. You know, because... *sigh* never mind."

"I won't."

"..."

"..."

"Wanna hear my impression of Anivia?"

"Please don't..."

"Uh, _hi, I'm Anivia... spaghetti and meatballs_..."

"I am this close to slicing your achilles tendon open and leaving you behind."

"Well jeez, you don't have to be so aggressive about it Dar-Dar. You know, sometimes you can be kind of a killjoy."

"I know," Darius said matter-of-factually.

"It's not healthy to walk around with all that aggression bubbling around inside of you. Look, I'll book you an appointment with this great massage parlor. It'll do wonders for your stress levels, and while we're there we can just get a facial for you as well. Maybe a mani-pedi, but it's optional, in case you want to keep the whole _grizzled, unwashed general_ look you've got going there. The full Draven treatment, except for Darius, so you won't come out looking as perfect as me, but it'll be an improvement anyway. Your hair's, like, one step back from being Draven hair, so no real problems there, but exploring new styles wouldn't hurt-"

Darius clamped a hand around Draven's entire face, gripping his mouth shut. "I appreciate the concern, but I'll have to turn down your offer. No spa." He then released the crestfallen Draven, who began to pout ineffectively. They walked in silence from that point on.

"Wanna hear my impression of Blitzcrank?"

Well, almost silence.

* * *

How in the hell did they get into this mess. Darius shuffled forwards, staring rigidly ahead. If he didn't acknowledge the presence of the two women slithering up behind them, maybe they would eventually go away. He just couldn't afford to start a fight in the streets at this time.

"Sssssso, where are you two heading?" Cassiopeia leaned in over Darius' shoulder, trying to catch his attention. He averted his eyes.

"Aaaaaw, the big bad general isn't happy to see me?" She pouted. Katarina snorted, trailing along behind her more flirtatious sister.

"Naw," Draven said, "We're headed to the birdman's manor for a par-tay!" Darius ran a hand through his hair in frustration, his thumb running along the white streak. God damn Draven, why couldn't he keep his mouth shut for two seconds? Now they were starting to draw a crowd, not to mention the two DuCouteaus they had in tow. It was like being the Pied Piper of Noxian idiots.

"And you didn't invite me? I'm ssssso sssssad." Cassiopeia (thankfully) slithered off of Darius' pauldrons and towards his idiot brother, running her claws through his fur collar and hanging off of him like some sort of back alley hooker. Quite the hands on conversationalist, that woman. Big on bodily contact.

"So sorry babe, but I don't make the rules." _Draven, you cocky bastard, if you keep flirting with the enemy I will murder you._ Darius directed his most terrifying visage at his brother, managing to scare off some of the surrounding riff-raff, but the fool was too absorbed in looking cool to notice him.

"What?" Katarina sneered. "The great Draven takes orders from an old has-been dictator? So much for doing it all with style."

Draven turned and raised one finger to interject, then stopped. Darius, taking note of the silence, turned and saw the pensive look on the idiot's face. Suddenly, his lips curled upwards into a dastardly smile.

"No."

"Bro, I've got a great idea."

" _No_."

"You haven't even heard it."

"I know what you're going to say, and I personally don't want to hear it."

"Sucks to be you then, we've _got_ to invite these two to the par-tay!"

"Stop saying that. That's not even how you pronounce the word. This is a military ceremony and political ball, not a... _par-tay_. And I refuse to escort two daughters of DuCouteau to Swain's manor. _And_ you don't have the _right_ to invite them anyway."

"Draven always has the right. Draven is always right."

"Stop talking in the third person. This is _not_ happening."

"Don't listen to him, Draven!" Katarina called out from behind the brothers. "Yeah, Dray Dray," Cassiopeia purred. "Bring ussssss to your party."

"They're just looking to cause trouble," Darius said. "Can't you tell that they're manipulating your ego? What's more important, your brother or two broads?"

"Oh my god, you're right," Draven said, smacking one hand against his forehead. "Hey girls, where's your brother?"

Darius cringed. "That's not what I meant!"

Katarina pointed upwards. "Rooftops. Little geek thinks he's a bird or something."

"If little Talon comes, can we come too?"

"Of course, Cassie. The more the merrier," Draven laughed, then grinned at Darius pointedly. "Right?"

"Not. Right."

"Well, Dar Dar's okay with it! Onwards, my lovelies, to the birdman's nest!" Draven skipped off with renewed vigor. Cassiopeia and Katarina followed closely behind, with the latter turning to smirk at Darius and subtly flip him the bird.

Great. Just perfect.

"Do you guys want to hear my Sona impression?"

* * *

 **Drunk on sleeplessness, I think I finished this around 3 AM and forgot to post it. Here.**

 **Might continue it? Who knows? Leave a review and I hope you maybe have a relatively okay day at least. （*´▽｀*）**


	2. Draven wears a uniform with style!

**Academy Darius is the shit. It's not exactly recent news, but I'm doing a highschool AU chapter anyway and pretending that the skin is my only motivation.  
**

"Hey Darius."

Darius froze, not daring to acknowledge the attention monger floating around him. Instead he hunched over his desk and forced himself to focus on the lines in front of him. D-E-C-A-P-I-...

"Hey Darius."

...T-A-T-I-O-N. Pause. The assignment was to write a short story about his ideal summer, so what else was there?

"Hey Darius."

Decapitation... is fun? Wait, _was_ fun. Did he have to write in the past tense? It was times like these that he wished Vladimir would let him take at least a peek at his homework, but the white haired boy hadn't allowed it since the last time Professor Mundo found out and went into a tirade on academic honesty.

"Hey Darius."

Damnit, he really couldn't screw up this assignment. Coach Swain wouldn't let him play for the Dunkmasters if he failed another assignment. No errors, no mistakes! That was his motto, yet his grades had been slipping since-

"Hey Darius."

"Draven, I swear if you do not leave my presence I will maul you like a bear."

-since Draven moved back in.

His younger brother, expelled, sent to boarding school, expelled _again_ and sent right back. Not many teenagers his age could pull of such a rapid ping pong maneuver. Only Draaaaven, or so he called himself.

"Draaaaaaaven isn't feeling so good right now," the younger brother pouted. "Draaaaaaven would like a hug."

"Go away Draven."

"Draaaaaaaaven will not take no for an answer!" And with that, Draven flopped onto Darius' bed and began to roll himself up in the covers.

"Draaaaaven had a bad day at school."

"Oh really?"

"Well, not _really_ at school, but you know what I mean. I was walking around campus and the DuCouteaus showed up."

Darius sighed. "Did you fight the DuCouteaus?"

"Well..." Draven looked away, squirming inside of the blanket burrito he had made himself, and Darius' brotherly empathy dropped dramatically. He did something stupid again, didn't he?

"See, at first I thought it was only Talon, the little one, and I knew I could take him alone, but I didn't expect the other two to jump me."

Darius' glare narrowed to a horizontal slit. Even Draven should know that the DuCouteaus always traveled in close proximity to each other. Seriously, this idiot brother...

"It was real scary, DarDar. They tore my uniform too."

"Really."

"Yeah, that Talon kid brings a hell of a lot of knives around."

 _That's what he's supposed to do, dumbass._ How did Draven manage to stay alive for so long with this horrible memory of his? Somehow he managed to lose track of all meaningful information as soon as he needed it, like his brain cells were hiding from potential use.

"So Darius..." Draven rolled out of the bed and onto the floor, then sat up to give him a set of deceptively large puppy dog eyes.

There it was. The true reason his brother was lounging around his room for so long had finally reached the surface. Draven always needed a favor, always had a question, always wanted to hide behind him. Darius braced himself. _C'mon, bring it on, make it quick._

"Can I try on your uniform?"

What.

"I'm pretty sure it's too big for you..." he said cautiously.

"Please, please please pretty please with a Draven on top?"

"I definitely don't want another Draven."

"Lemme just try it on for a little bit, it's only fair?"

"For who? You tore up your own uniform."

"If you'd warned me about the DuCouteaus-"

"I did."

"If you'd hung out with me at lunch-"

"Fuck no."

"C'mon! I just want to know what it's like to be Darius, infamous basketball champ and notorious trouble maker with a major stick up his-"

"Don't you finish that sentence," he warned. "You have your own uniform, and what with all the modifications you made to yours I doubt you'll be interested in mine."

"It's got those spiky shoulder pads."

"..." It was a stupid idea, but at the time putting pointy metal spikes on his shoulder pads sounded like the coolest thing ever to Darius. In practice they were obviously useless, and somewhat dangerous. He couldn't rest his head to the side when he was tired or he might poke an eye out. Draven was highly likely to injure himself just putting the damn thing on.

Although maybe that wasn't such a bad thing...

"No. Just fix your own uniform. Mom bought you that sewing kit you wanted, didn't she?"

"I didn't ask for thaaaat!" Draven shouted, leaping to his own defense. Fuzzy jacket bristling with indignity, he rushed to the door and slammed it shut. Darius waited, watching the door handle, listening for his footsteps.

Draven flung the door open again. "I'm not fixing your shirts when they rip anymore!"

Slam!

Darius turned back to his essay. He'd have to be careful not to tear any more shirts.

* * *

Draven had his uniform all sewed up by the next day. It wasn't even that big of a cut, just a minor rip along the shoulder.

"Friggin' fraggin'..."


End file.
